


Autumn Winds

by Nibby (Schach)



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Fall/Autumn happens, M/M, and charles is sick, and everything is happy blissful domesticated fluff, and there are autumn-ish things that happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-12
Updated: 2012-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-16 03:32:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schach/pseuds/Nibby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles loves Fall, and hates coats, which always ends with him being sick, and Erik just can't resist a needy Charles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Autumn Winds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My darling Kat.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+darling+Kat.).



Erik’s favorite sound was the desperate little whimper that always escaped Charles’ mouth immediately before he sneezed. He thinks he fell in love the very moment he first heard it.

“Erik, I can’t feel my nose,” Charles sniffled, gingerly touching it to assess any damages but Erik made no reply, too busy plotting all the ways he could sneak cinnamon doughnuts and apple cider into the car without his best friend noticing. 

He was decidedly not staring at the little puffs of air that were escaping Charles’ mouth as he breathed, and he was rather desperately trying not think about the way it had been making him feel all day, staring straight ahead as they walked.

 “Erik,” Charles pouted at the apparent lack of attention, nudging his best friend with his elbow, nose pink and tender in the cold.

Erik snorted; amused at the way Charles always seemed to whine whenever Erik’s full attention wasn’t on him, when it usually was anyway, inadvertently or not, and with or without his needy brand of encouragement.

“Charles, why don’t you ever wear a coat? Every year we come here and every year you don’t wear your coat, and every year you get pneumonia,” Erik sighed. He’d even called Charles before they’d headed out that morning, specifically reminding him to grab some warm clothing because it was autumn now.

But that had obviously done no good because Charles had only gone off on a tangent about how he loved fall more than any other time of the year and never actually agreed to bring a coat.

Charles had explained how the sun wasn’t present as much as it had been in the summer, and he didn’t get sunburned or have his freckles magically multiply in the course of twenty four hours. He said it wasn’t as cold as winter where he had to don a million pairs of pants and at least three of his incredibly warm sweaters.  Lastly, he’d rambled about how nice spring was weather wise, but simple greens couldn’t compare to browns, reds and yellows in his opinion.

He’d covered every fall related thing he could think of; from getting to wear snug knit hats and brightly colored scarfs to huddling under his blankets with a good book and a big steaming cup of pumpkin spice chai tea in front of an open window, from going for an early morning jog to breath in the crisp, painful air and smelling the scent of dying leaves and night old bonfires to all the delightful pastries that began to pop up in the bakeries. Obviously, there was nothing bad to be found during autumn and by the time they’d hung up a half hour had passed.

The whole time Charles had been talking Erik had been thinking about his favorite part of the season, a sick, rumpled version of one Charles Francis Xavier. He was certain that any sickness pertaining to Charles only existed to push all of his buttons, good and bad.

Sick Charles was clingy and muddled. Sick Charles wore clothes three times too big so he could be comfy and insisted that Erik come over and feed him soup because he was too lethargic to do it himself. Sick Charles had the biggest, most innocent blue eyes Erik had ever seen, the reddest cheeks and even redder lips, a deepened distressed voice asking Erik to do the most simple, caring things for him.

And Erik was more than happy to do anything for the idiot who never ever wore a coat, even if he did bitch and moan about it, or loudly curse Charles when he too ended up being sick. But usually by that time, Charles was back to his well put together, on top of everything, in control and fully aware of the world around him self and would take care of Erik while begging for forgiveness the whole time. A fair enough trade if you asked Erik.

“Are we buying pumpkins this year then?” Charles asked in lieu of an answer, looking eagerly towards the small pumpkin patch lining the exit. They’d already solved all three corn mazes, had caramel apples by the bonfire, ridden the bumpy hayride twice, and the only thing left to do in their seven year long tradition was to buy pumpkins.

 “Charles, we got pumpkins last year, because you wanted to cook the seeds. I distinctly recall you promising me that you would never touch another pumpkin in your life,” Erik frowned, images of fire and the sound of screaming in his ears. He shook his head, clearing the thought and trying to decide if he wanted to drag Charles past the pumpkins or haul him out the long way around. Either way they had to move, he needed to keep his petulant five year old occupied, otherwise they’d just stand there arguing about pumpkins all day.

“Well yes, but how was I supposed to remember they were in the oven when I couldn’t even stand up straight?” Charles sniffled, hands in his pockets, shuffling back and forth while he glared at the ground.

“I told you you’d taken too much,” Erik sighed, deciding on braving the pumpkin patch and taking off in that direction, checking once to make sure Charles was still walking beside him and not staying behind crying. He definitely wasn’t looking at that nose, when he muttered, “Who takes NightQuil at three o’clock in the afternoon anyway?”

"Really, Erik, it was all that I had in my medicine cabinet, what would you expect me to do, suffer?" Charles huffed, crossing his arms expectantly as he followed the other towards the exit.

"No, I’d expect you to wear a coat, Charles,” he retorted dryly.

Charles’ only reply was to loop his arm through Erik’s, pulling him closer for warmth and huffing contentedly. They’d made it about half a foot before Charles stopped, his whole body going taut, a look of terror flashing across his face.

“Charles, what on earth are you,” Erik began to ask, but broke off mid-sentence when he realized what was going on.

Charles sniffled, wriggling his nose desperately, quickly bringing up a bare arm to bury his face in before whimpering and issuing the loudest, most high pitched sneeze Erik had ever heard.

“Eriiiiiik,” he wailed, “I think I’m getting sick!”

He was the most tragic thing. His face had misery etched into every pore, his cheeks and nose one continuous pink swipe across his face, the pink given proper definition by the scattering of freckles across his  nose. His wind tousled hair swept back from his face, probably by his own hand in a fit of dramatics. And to top it all of he was giving Erik the puppy dog eyes as he continued to cling tightly to Erik’s forearm.

“Imagine that,” was Erik’s counter. He had only a moment to see the irked look his non sympathetic words received before he was peeling off his coat and shoving Charles’ body inside, following up by wrapping his scarf securely around the lower half of Charles’  face, lastly pushing his gloves into frigid fingers.

“I’ll go scrounge up some napkins or something, because I don’t have any tissues in the car, and I don’t want your snot everywhere,” he half lied, handing Charles the keys before taking off back in the other direction. As soon as Charles was out of sight he purchased doughnuts and cider. Then sighing he also grabbed two medium sized pumpkins, stuffing napkins in his pocket as an alibi, to be presented after he hid the rest of the items in the trunk.

When he got back to the car it was to find Charles fast asleep in the passenger’s seat, reclining in his seat and nestled comfortably in Erik’s coat, the heat as high as it would go.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is exactly half way done. Haha. But I'm very inspired already inspired, and determined to write to get my mind off of life things so next chapter soon. Thank you to everyone who was kind enough to read the original version and this version as well before posting.


End file.
